Although I tried my best to get as much gunge off myself as I could in the basement, it was hard not to leave traces of slime in the bathroom. I took the once-blue t-shirt off and left it in a bucket marked "used clothes" in the corner of the bathroom, followed by the jeans. As I struggled to remove the gungy jeans, I realized that I had left my underpants on and they too had been gunged up slightly. It was at this point I realized that I didn't bring any spare underpants. I'd be going home commando no matter what.

I jumped into the shower and washed myself with the water nice and warm. I was surprised by how much effort I still had to put into removing all the gunge off my body as I'd been expecting the water just to carry it off. I also realized that the gunge got everywhere, and there were at least two occasions that I thought I was finally clean but then realized there were still streaks of gunge somewhere.

Hobbling out of the shower, I started to dry myself whilst looking at clothes package #2. Whilst the first clothes package had considerable heft to it, this looked like it had about half the amount of clothes inside. After checking in the mirror that my hair was dry enough for the next part of the shoot, I opened the package and immediately saw why it was considerably lighter. I pulled out by two thin straps a low-cut wrestling singlet that would expose the entirety of my chest. On the front, it was navy blue with lots of white stars on it, but on the back, it was striped red and white.

"America?" I muttered to myself. Whatever the next game was going to be, I suddenly felt much less confident than I did with a quiz on London. And I still ended up very messy after that.

I'd never worn a wrestling singlet before but I was surprised at how comfortable it was. I didn't find much difference to it compared to wearing braces, which I had done for a photo shoot a few months beforehand.

With one last look in the mirror to check I was camera-ready, I headed back to the basement, carefully avoiding the little splats of gunge I had left on my trip to the bathroom. I did this throughout the day even though it made little sense as I was only heading down the stairs to get messier anyway. What harm would a little bit of gunge on the bottom of my feet do anyway?

The scene that greeted me in the basement was slightly different from before. The paddling pool that was tucked in the corner was now front and centre of the room. Steve was doing the last fiddles with the camera upon the tripod that sat directly in front of a stool in the middle of the pool. I could barely see what was around the corner, but I could tell that was where Steve was keeping the mess. But the oddest thing I could see added to the set was a small inflatable version of the Statue of Liberty, positioned in-camera shot behind the chair. "Definitely America then" I thought to myself.

"Ah, perfect timing! Please take a seat." I obliged. "Alright, so I wanted to check in with you first on how you feel after your first gunging?"

"It was really fun y'know" I replied. "I wasn't expecting quite so much and I didn't realise how into the game I would get."

"I did notice you getting competitive! Keep that energy up, the fans love that player." I was relieved to hear Steve tell me that I was doing what he was after. There's nothing worse than when you're in a shoot and you don't feel like you're giving the photographer or the director what they want. "I like to start off the day with a game like that because it warms you up a bit and you get a flavour of what's to come. And you've come back for some more so this hasn't scared too much then."

I laughed. "As if I'd run away."

Steve completed his last checks, which included a little inspection of the gunge tank which made me nervous and returned the camera. "I'll reveal the game to you on camera if that's ok, Hudson?"

"Go for it!"

Steve pressed a button, I saw a light on the camera turn red and knew we were rolling. "Welcome back Hudson to your next challenge. Any ideas what it is?"

"Well, as you can see, I'm modelling a singlet with some stars and stripes on it." I was getting so into the show by this point that I even got up showing off my bum to the camera to highlight where the stripes were on the singlet. "And I can see the Statue of Liberty behind me, so I'm guessing something related to America."

"Yes, you'd be correct Hudson. The guys at Gunk the Hunk realised that we couldn't have a guest on with the name Hudson and not reference the most beautiful cities of them all, New York! So this game is called 'Avoid the Hudson, Hudson'." I laughed. I had to give it to Steve, he must've put a lot of time and thought into coming up with these crazy games. "In the tank behind is some murky extracts from the Hudson river" Steve continued. "To avoid getting covered in it, you must answer three of the five questions related to New York correctly. Fail, and it's a one-way dunk into the Hudson for you. And for any incorrect answers, you'll be trying out one of New York's delicacies. And by trying out, I think you know what I mean." Steve winked at me, which told me that those delicacies would be going over me instead.

"Okay, it's another quiz," I thought to myself. "And I only need to get three right." But my main concern came from the fact that I'd never been to New York before, so I quickly realised that a clean escape from this game was unlikely. As Steve momentarily paused filming, I asked "what do you mean by murky extracts in the tank?"

"I've filled it up with grey gunge and topped it up a fair bit with water. The result should look similar to before but a bit less thick." Steve smiled, reassuring me that there's nothing too surprising in store for me in the tank, other than a good gunging.

He resumed filming. "So, Hudson, if you get the first question wrong, you'll be trying out the egg part of an Egg and Cheese Sandwich." At this point, I saw Steve pick up a tray of three eggs and I gulped. "Which of New York City's five boroughs is home to JFK International Airport and LaGuardia Airport?"

How I had wished I had flown to New York at this point? Maybe I'd have a better clue. "I don't knowQueens?"

"Is the right answer!" I cheered. At least I wouldn't have egg on my face. "So, an incorrect answer to question two will mean that you become a dollar pizza." Instead of the eggs in Steve's hand now, it was a carton of tomato sauce. "Queens was named after the wife of which English king?"

Why was this quiz so obsessed about Queens?! And, again, how was I meant to know the answer to that. I could barely name any kings in the first place. I racked my brain for a clue. "Only because he's a character in Hamilton, I'm going to guess King George."

"Thatisincorrect!" The delight on Steve's face as he said this was a little insulting, but then I realised that he was going to get messy footage, which is what he was after. "And so, it's time for you to become a little pizza for us."

Steve walked over and I continued to look at the camera. I tried to ignore his arm rise above me so it felt like in no time at all, the thick tomato sauce was plopping onto my newly washed hair. "Urgh, that's thicker than the gunge." It slowly streamed off my head, over my forehead, and down my face, landing in my lap. Because of the way I was sat, the low-cutting of the singlet became a little pocket where some of the sauce decided to pool itself into. As I looked down to see my crotch become covered in tomatoes, I felt the last bits of the carton be deposited on my back. "How was that?" Steve asked.

"Different. Smell like a pizza now."

Steve chuckled and went back to the camera. "So, we all know New York is famous for its bagels, so if you get the next question wrong, you'll be getting covered in bagel batter." At this point, Steve revealed a large bucket that had been filled with a thick, beige batter. "Which saltwater tidal estuary separates the borough of Queens on Long Island from the Bronx on the mainland?"

I laughed. This would be the second strike. "The Hudson." I guessed, "because I don't have a clue."

"Nope, it's the East River." I was annoyed because I thought the East River was genuinely a river, but now, I was going to get covered in batter. Steve picked up the bucket and brought it over above my head.

"I hope it feels nice," I said. Steve then started pouring in a similar way to the tomato sauce, but this time, there was much more. Thick batter coated me, and it was the nicest thing I had been covered in all day. It pushed off any remaining tomato sauce on me and it was warm, so I didn't mind getting gunged in it. So much so that I even looked up to get my face covered at one point.

Steve smiled. "Liked that one did we? Well, if you get the next question wrong, you'll be feeling like a silly hot dog." Steve put the bucket down and, instead, grabbed two bottles: ketchup and mustard.

"I hate the smell of mustard." I did think to myself whether Steve had mentioned mustard in the list of possible things I'd be getting covered in, but then I remembered that I didn't pay much attention to that list in the first place.

"Which stadium was home to the New York Mets from 1964 to 2008, and the New York Jets football team from 1964 to 1983?"

"Another nice easy question," I said sarcastically to the camera. "I've heard of the MetLife Stadium, but I think that's quite new. The only other stadium in New York I've heard of is the Yankee Stadium, so that's going to be my guess." Steve paused. He looked at me with a little frustration. I smiled. "Did I get it right?" I said excitedly.

"No. It's the Shea Stadium." Steve laughed. "Just wanted to mess with you." I threw my battered head back and sighed. "So that's three wrong, so even if you get the next question right, it's a trip to the gunge tank for you." With little warning, Steve then opened fire with the bottle of ketchup. Streaks of red were landing all over my body, and I raised my arms to increase the surface area he could hit. Once he'd exhausted the ketchup, he opened the mustard. "Are you ready?" he asked. I nodded, trying to hold my nose. He then aimed the mustard carefully at my body, conscious to avoid the eyes. Within moments, the singlet that was once pristine was covered in beige batter and had yellow and red stripes all over it.

"Okay, for the final question, if you get it wrong, you'll get a nice New York Cheesecake to the face."

I laughed. "You know, at least that one tastes sweet."

"Which free passenger ferry shuttle service runs 24/7 between Manhattan and Staten Island?"

I paused. Could the answer be that easy? "The Staten Island ferry," I said. "I've seen it in some movies."

"That's correct." I cheered once again. "But don't get too happy, Hudson. I'm afraid you got three incorrect answers and that means it's a trip to the tank for you. Please go and take your seat."

Steve pressed pause. As I got off my chair, and the pooled mess that was in my lap fell to the floor, a thought came into my head. I was beginning to realise that for this show to work, and if I wanted my appearance to be popular, the more mess the better. "Steve, do you want to pie me anyway? Would the fans like that?"

Steve pondered for a moment. "They would, but don't worry," he smiled, "the eggs and the cheesecake will be used." I also tried to smile, but then the thought of what game they could be used for also came to mind. I had seen baked beans on my first visit to the basement. There must be another game coming that's involving food.

I carefully walked over to the gunge tank whilst Steve repositioned the camera so it was closer. Whilst Steve was kind enough to clean the stool, I could still remnants of the orange gunge from my previous trip on the floor.

Steve pressed play on the camera. "Hudson, you lost the game so that meansit's time toGUNK THE HUNK!"

Suddenly, I heard the trap door open above my head. I didn't make the same mistake as before and look up, but within milliseconds, I let out a shriek as cold grey gunge crashed onto my head. The stream was much stronger than before as the gunge was a bit thinner. I was quickly looking murkier as the grey gunge coated me and pushed the batter, tomatoes, and condiments onto the floor.

After fifteen seconds, the stream eased off and I could try and remove any gunge away from my eyes. Unlike before, where I was luminous in orange, now I looked like I'd been dragged out of a sewer, which I guessed was exactly what Steve wanted.

"Hudson, will you be planning any trips to New York any time soon after that?"

"No!" I said defiantly. "And I certainly won't be taking any dips into the river."

Steve stopped the recording once I said that. "Brilliant, you smashed that! How did you find that game?"

I smiled. "Different. So much colder this gunge but I guessed that's so I gave a reaction like I was being dumped with river water." Steve nodded. "And I didn't mind the food too much. Although you're teasing me by keeping hold of the cheesecake."

"Well, you'll have to be patient. I'm sure you'll get a taste of it soon enough."

Without needing to be prompted, I started to try and wipe down as much of the gunge off my body as I could. Steve had started to clear things away. "Steve," I asked, "what can I expect from the next game? Give me one clue." He looked at me friendlily. "Please," I pleaded, sarcastically fluttering my eyelashes which were accidentally flicking off specks of gunge away.

"Alright, you'll be in fancy dress." I oohed. "And it won't be a quiz."

"That's good. I'm getting all quizzed out!" I joked.

Soon, I had most of the gunge off my body and I had emptied the contents of my singlet (a surprising amount of gunge went in there which meant a deeper clean of my crotch in the shower) and I was wandering up the stairs to the bathroom. As I stood there, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I was still covered in gunge and looked very little like my normal model self. I laughed. This was one of the most fun jobs I had ever taken. "Bring on Round 3," I told myself.